


arts and crafts and the inevitability of death

by sunshineinthestorm



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: (i couldn't resist), Adam is a suffering medical student, M/M, Ronan is an artist bc that's my Brand now apparently, background Czeng and Bluesey, but i felt bad tagging them bc it's only really for one scene, despite the title nobody dies, the rest of the gangsey makes an appearance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-24
Updated: 2017-12-24
Packaged: 2019-02-19 20:47:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13131873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunshineinthestorm/pseuds/sunshineinthestorm
Summary: Adam comes to the public library in search of a study spot, not a boyfriend.But it must be his lucky day—because he ends up with a bit of both.





	arts and crafts and the inevitability of death

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dykemedusa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dykemedusa/gifts).



> For my pynch secret santa recipient, [@admlynch](http://admlynch.tumblr.com)! You asked for an Artist AU and/or a fic where Adam and Ronan are young adults, so I did my best to do both? Which was surprisingly difficult—not because I don't love the idea of a pynch artist au, but actually because I love it so much that I'm already in the midst of writing a long fic about it, so it was hard to come up with another idea for the same concept! Also, Adam still has to deal with exams because I started writing this fic in the midst of my own exams and forced him to suffer along with me lol. Regardless, I hope you enjoy this! <3

Adam was going to die, probably. 

Well, he was definitely going to die at some point. But he was probably going to die before the end of next week. It was Wednesday afternoon, his first med school exams started on Monday, and Adam had been studying all week but he was still pretty sure he knew jack shit. It didn't help that the library was filled with panicked freshmen from the college attached to his med school, and one of them had a loud, public breakdown approximately every fifteen minutes. 

Adam sympathized. He did. But if he had to hear one more cry of, "I'm going to  _ FAIL _ !", followed by hysterical wailing facedown in their gen chem textbooks, he was probably going to murder them all, and then how would he get his medical license?

With a sigh, Adam packed away his books and slung his backpack over his shoulder. He'd just study in his apartment. No distractions. Just anatomy and physiology. 

About two blocks from his shitty apartment building, a small café caught his eye, and Adam suddenly remembered that he hadn't eaten anything all day. It wasn't exactly in his budget, but he could afford to buy an overpriced café sandwich and an ungodly amount of caffeine to make it through the rest of the day. In fact, he could probably even call Blue to ask if she wanted anything. 

The line was obscenely long. He had time. Adam dialed. 

"Hello?" Blue sounded breathless, which was unusual because she’d told him multiple times that exercise was strictly against her morals (whatever that meant). "Why are you calling?"

Adam snorted. Straight to the point, as usual. "I'm at a café. Do you want anything?"

"Oh, are you... coming home... already?" Now she sounded like she was actively running. Adam frowned. "I thought... you were studying... at the library all day."

"Too many freshmen," Adam said. "Figured I'd be more productive at home. Were you... hoping I'd be at the library all day?"

"Oh, no, no, of course not! You know... nothing makes me happier... than... roommate bonding."

"Uh-huh." The line was moving faster than Adam had anticipated. He fiddled with his jacket zipper. "So do you want me to get you anything, or—" A howl sounded over the receiver, ringing in Adam's one good ear. Panic seized in his chest, unexpected and frantic, for a split second before he realized—"Is that a dog?"

"I don't— _ come back here! _ —know what you're talking about."

"Blue."

She sighed. "Okay, yes, it's a dog."

"Blue," Adam said again. The panic started to seep back in. "We cannot afford to keep a—"

"She's not ours!"

"Oh, thank God." He took another step toward the counter. "Um, but if it's not ours, then why do you have it, exactly?"

"You know Noah's been whining about wanting a dog for months."

"Uh-huh."

"And his birthday's on Sunday."

"Uh-huh." Adam had actually forgotten about that in the midst of his exam stress— _ fuck, he needed to get Noah a present _ —but he decided now wasn't the time to tell Blue that. 

"Well, Henry took Noah to the shelter last week, saying that maybe if he liked it they could start volunteering there as a compromise, but secretly he was bringing Noah along to see if he liked any of the dogs, and of course Noah liked all of the dogs but his favorite was this one two-year-old mix of 'who-knows-but-who-cares-she's-beautiful'—Noah's actual description of the dog, according to Henry—so Henry went back to adopt her today and it all went well but he wants to surprise Noah with her at dinner tonight because he knows Noah is expecting a surprise on his birthday because Gansey has about as much subtlety as Lady Gaga, so he wants to surprise him early instead, and I told him I'd watch her while he got everything set up but that probably won't be until about five-thirty or six."   
  
Adam took a deep breath. "And I'm assuming—oh, sorry, a turkey club and large black coffee please, thanks—that this dog is currently running all over our apartment and that's why you sound like you decided to get a gym membership."   
  
"Gross, gyms are overpriced cess pools of toxic masculinity and obnoxiously cheerful fitness bloggers," Blue said automatically. "But... yes, it's a bit hectic in here right now. Sorry, Adam."   
  
It was an inconvenient fact of life that Adam was incapable of staying angry with Blue. He sighed and took a sip of his coffee. "It's fine, Blue. I'll study somewhere else. But you owe me one for not telling me that there was going to be a fully grown dog in our apartment today."    
  
"Would you prefer a puppy?" Blue said cheekily. "Because that can be arranged."   
  
"Bye, Blue."   
  
Adam picked up his turkey club and turned around to discover that while he'd been in line, every café table had filled up with businessmen and mothers with small children and exhausted college students. Any thought of maybe studying in here flew out of Adam's head. He pulled out his phone again, resigned to asking Siri for "good study spots near me" and praying to the finals gods for a decent result, when he looked out the window and saw the neighborhood's public library across the street. Only six cars were parked in its lot. 

Public libraries were quiet, right?

* * *

For about two hours, the library was quiet. Blissfully so, actually. With only the occasional patron checking out a book or using one of the library computers, Adam expected to feel somewhat conspicuous with his hoard of medical textbooks, but other than the librarian smiling at him politely whenever she passed by to shelve a book, nobody really looked twice at him. To his surprise, he quickly felt comfortable enough to stick a headphone in his ear, drowning out the outside world completely, and immerse himself in studying.    
  
Which is why it was so disconcerting when someone clapped a hand on Adam's shoulder hard enough that Adam nearly jolted out of his skin, dislodging his headphone.    
  
"Jesus. I thought the point of only wearing one headphone was so you could still hear what's going on around you."   
  
Adam flushed, even though he'd spent years teaching himself that losing hearing in one ear was nothing to be ashamed of. "Sorry," he said, even though he wasn't. "What do you want?"   
  
The guy crossed his arms, but all he said was, "We need to use the table you're sitting at for today's after-school program. You're welcome to relocate to one of the tables in the YA or nonfiction sections instead."   
  
Adam finally looked up from his textbook to figure out what the hell this guy was talking about—and blinked. He was wearing vaguely distressed jeans and a black ribbed tank top and a leather jacket that should have turned him into a walking cliché but somehow didn't. He had a buzzcut. He had bright blue eyes. He was absurdly attractive in a touch-me-and-you-die kind of way, and wow, Adam really needed to get some sleep tonight.    
  
Fuck, he'd been staring too long. "Um, after-school program?"   
  
"For the elementary school down the block," the guy explained, rolling his eyes like Adam was being ridiculously slow. Which, to be fair, he kind of was. The caffeine was already wearing off, which was really not a good indicator of how the rest of the week was going to go. "We do arts and crafts and shit with the kids until their parents can come pick them up after work."   
  
He blinked again. "You're a teacher?"   
  
"Uh, no." The guy shuddered. "I just run the arts and crafts. For the library. Not the school."   
  
"Right." Although Adam still wasn't entirely sure how a guy wearing a leather jacket ended up doing arts and crafts with elementary schoolers, it made more sense than him being a  _ teacher _ . After all, he was pretty sure distressed jeans were against school dress code. "Sorry for using your tables. I'll move."   
  
The guy nodded curtly and walked away without another word.    
  
Adam packed away his textbooks and moved to a table by a window on the other side of the library. It wasn't until he'd settled in to rewrite his notes that he fully processed what the guy had said.    
  
This library was going to be filled with elementary schoolers soon. Loud, screaming, excitable elementary schoolers.    
  
Fuck. 

* * *

 

But to Adam’s considerable surprise, two dozen crafting elementary schoolers were still quieter than two hundred supposedly-studying college students. They weren’t silent by any stretch of the word, but Adam only had to turn up his music’s volume a little to drown them out as effectively as he’d apparently drowned out their unfairly attractive instructor earlier. 

Still, it was hard not to notice a six-year-old sneaking extremely conspicuous glances at you from behind a bookshelf.

Adam kept waiting for the child to lose interest and wander back to the crafts tables, but after about five minutes, he gave up and pulled out his headphone again. “Hey,” he said gently, trying to sound reassuring and not uncomfortable. “My name’s Adam. What's yours?”

“Anisha.”

“Okay. That's a nice name. What are you up to, Anisha?”

She frowned. “What are  _ you _ up to?”

“Studying for a test I have on Monday.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Aren’t you too old for tests?”

_ I wish, kid. _ “It’s for a different kind of school than yours,” he explained. “I’m learning how to be a doctor.”

“Oh.” She blinked. “Can I see?”

Adam took a cursory glance of his textbooks and quickly decided that cross-section diagrams of human organs were inappropriate to show to six-year-olds. “I mean, you probably don’t want to. It’s pretty boring. Too many words and not enough pictures.”

She made a face. “Never mind. I only like books with lots of pictures.”

“Pictures, huh?” Adam made a show of rubbing his chin with his hand. “Wait a second. Isn’t that what you’re supposed to be doing right now? Making pictures?”

To his surprise, Anisha hung her head and looked at the ground. “Yeah, s’posed to,” she mumbled. “But I got lost.”

The arts and crafts tables were just a turn or two away, but Adam guessed that all bookshelves looked the same when you were too short to read their labels. “It's a pretty big library,” he said carefully. “Would you like me to show you how to get back?”

“I didn’t mean to bother you.” She bunched up the hem of her shirt in her hand. Adam’s mother would have yelled at her for stretching the fabric. Adam's father would have done worse than yell. Adam hoped she didn't have anyone in her life like Adam's parents.

“No, you're doing me a favor,” he insisted. “My books are boring, remember?”

“Oh. Right,” she said, reaching out to him trustingly. She probably had nicer parents than his, then.  _ Good.  _

Adam packed his books into his backpack—the odds of someone stealing them while he was gone were slim to none, but he hadn't survived public high school by taking chances with his belongings—and took Anisha’s hand. In no time, they were back at the crafts table. Adam remembered Leather Jacket Guy’s abrasiveness and wondered, for just an instant, if it would have been kinder to let the girl sit on his lap and look at human organs after all. But in the next instant, Leather Jacket Guy was sweeping the little girl away from Adam and plopping her onto the nearest free chair. “Where did you run off to?” he asked. “You've been gone for so long, I was worried you wouldn't have time to finish your drawing before leaving.”

“I asked Tad to take me to the bathroom, but when I came out, he was gone,” she babbled. “I didn't know how to get back on my own, but Adam helped me.”

“Adam helped you, huh?” Leather Jacket Guy looked at him again, a once-over that was significantly more gratifying than the rolled eyes Adam had received the last time they interacted. He turned his attention back to Anisha quickly enough that Adam tried not to read into it, but—well, Leather Jacket Guy was hot, and Adam was only human. “What do we say to Adam, then?”

“Thank you, Adam!” Anisha chirped. Her smile was much wider now that she was back in familiar territory. “Do you want to see my drawing before you have to back to your boring old textbooks?”

“Sure,” Adam said before he could stop himself. He glanced at Leather Jacket Guy. “If that's all right?”

He shrugged and headed over to a table where two boys were fighting over the last black crayon. Adam took that as a sign that he could do what he wanted, so he slid into the seat next to Anisha. 

As it turned out, Anisha was drawing an epic alien battle and wanted Adam’s advice on how to accurately draw the laser blasters. He wasn't entirely sure that he was supposed to be teaching children about guns, so he mostly told her that she was doing everything right, but he had to admit that Anisha was quite gifted at drawing stick figures. By the time she finished talking to him and settled into coloring, a child sitting across from her wanted to show Adam the magnificently rainbow rooster he'd colored. Other kids clamored for his attention after that—intrigued by the novelty of a new face at the library, Adam assumed—and before he knew it, parents were arriving to pick their children up. 

He wasn't particularly surprised that he'd lost track of time. What shocked him was saying goodbye to Anisha and turning around to find Leather Jacket Guy just an inch away from crowding into his personal space. 

There was a smear of green paint across his cheekbone.

One of the sleeves of his leather jacket was rolled up, and one of the kids had apparently painted a lopsided flower on his forearm. 

Adam caught a glimpse of a black tattoo tracing around the back of the guy’s neck and suddenly understood why painting someone's skin might have sounded more interesting than painting a canvas. 

He swallowed and took a step back. “Hi,” he said warily. “Sorry, I know I spent much longer with them than you probably thought I was going t—”

“Thanks for bringing Anisha back,” the guy interrupted. 

“Oh.” Adam blinked. “It was no problem.”

For a moment, Adam thought the guy was glaring at him. But then he realized the guy was just… glaring. At no particular target. Maybe it was his natural facial expression. “I can't wait for Tad fucking Carruthers to leave,” he muttered. 

Adam wasn't sure if he was meant to commiserate with the guy or take that as a hint to get out of his face, so he went with both. “Leaving Anisha in the bathroom does seem pretty irresponsible,” he agreed, pulling his backpack out from under the table. 

“You don't know the half of it,” the guy growled. “Tad’s studying abroad next semester, so he's not going to be able to volunteer here anymore, but with his work ethic, he might as well have quit already. All he wants to do is read the library’s travel guides and throw out stereotypical French phrases every once in a while to remind everyone where he's going.” He rolled his eyes. “As if shouting  _ sacré bleu  _ whenever he drops a pencil is proof of fluency.”

Adam snorted. “But he's volunteering, so you can't actually fire him,” he surmised. 

“Unfortunately. Looking after two dozen children on my own is going to be hell after Christmas, but it'll still be better than looking after them with Tad.” The guy shoved his paint-splattered hands into his pockets. “You heading out?”

Was his eyebrow raised in curiosity or invitation? Adam was too sleep-deprived to tell. Either way, he forced himself to shake his head. “I should probably, you know, get some actual studying done.”

“Studying?”

“Med school.”

“Oh.”

“But it was nice to meet you…”

“Ronan.” Ronan ran a hand over his buzzed hair. “Lynch.”

“Adam Parrish,” Adam responded. Before he could think better of it, he added, “I'll probably be back tomorrow. The university library is an actual nightmare during reading week.”

“Sounds like fun,” Ronan said, starting to walk away. “Let me know if you want to take a break to deal with screaming kids.”

He was exaggerating, of course—Adam thought it was probably a testament to Ronan's instruction that none of the kids had actually resorted to screaming all afternoon—but that didn't make the offer any more enticing. He could take a break by dicking around on his cell phone just like anyone else. 

That's what Adam told himself the next day, right up until Anisha saw him that afternoon and dragged him over to see her finished drawing. He'd made the switch from university to public library around noon and been relentlessly productive since then, so he could afford to lose a half-hour or so talking to Anisha and the other children, watching Ronan mouth  _ help me _ at him from across the room when he got trapped in a conversation with Tad Carruthers, letting himself end up with the painted forearms this time. And if that had been his plan all along… well, Ronan Lynch didn't have to know. 

Adam didn't stay with the kids all afternoon, retreating to his textbooks long before the first parents arrived, but as soon as the last child left the library, Ronan came to find him anyway. 

Adam didn't even bother making the trip to the university library on Friday. 

* * *

The weekend rolled around, and Adam took a break from drowning in flashcards and talking— _ flirting? _ —with Ronan Lynch to figure out what the hell he was getting Noah for his birthday. (Besides, there was no school on the weekends, so there was no reason Ronan would be at the library anyway.) After an hour of slight panicking and a confession of his incompetence to Blue, Adam settled on picking up a relatively cheap used video game he'd heard Noah mention a few times, thanking whatever gods might be out there that Noah was a fan of outdated consoles. One quick wrapping job and scribbled card later, Adam and Blue arrived at the location of Noah’s not-very-surprising surprise party, Monmouth Manufacturing. (Adam had yet to receive a satisfying explanation for why Gansey had chosen to purchase a warehouse building instead of renting an apartment like a normal human being, but he'd given up on questioning it by now.) Blue rapped on the door with all the authority of someone who'd spent more nights there than Adam had any interest in counting, and it opened a few seconds later to reveal—

“ _ Ronan _ _?" _  Adam said in disbelief. 

Ronan's eyebrows furrowed. “Adam?”

“Ronan,” Blue said curtly, wearing the expression she used to pretend she didn't like people when she clearly did. 

“Blue,” Ronan replied, the slightest hint of a smile at the corner of his mouth. 

“How do you know Blue?” Adam demanded. “Blue, how do you know Ronan?”

“He's Gansey’s roommate,” Blue said airily. “Flat mate? Warehouse mate? Whatever. How do  _ you _ know Ronan?”

Adam hesitated. “I met him while he was working at the library.”

Blue’s eyebrows arched. “The same library where you've spent the better part of the past three days?”

She saw right through him, but Adam didn't back down. “Only because you were keeping a dog in our apartment on Wednesday.”

“So you're the reason he started coming to the library?” Ronan looked wickedly pleased. Adam wished the sight didn't make him want to kiss the smirk right off his face. “Maybe I should thank you, Sargent.”

“Thank Henry and his elaborate schemes,” Blue answered with an equally mischievous grin. 

Adam has been right—he  _ was _ going to die by the end of the week. But it wouldn't be because of his exams. 

This party would kill him before med school got the chance. 

“Speaking of elaborate schemes, Henry just texted to say that they're almost here!” Gansey hurried out of a side room, a party hat perched crookedly on his head that was almost as garishly bright as the polo shirt he was wearing. “You all need to hide!”

Blue snorted and adjusted Gansey’s hat, but no one had the heart to tell him that Noah had known about this party for weeks. They dutifully hid behind a lumpy couch and yelled “surprise!” when Gansey flung open the door to let Noah and Henry, along with their extremely energetic new dog, inside. To his credit, Noah did a very good job of faking amazement. 

The rest of the party was about as fun as Adam had expected, except that he couldn't tear his eyes away from Ronan for longer than a few minutes at a time. It was definitely weird that he'd never met Ronan before Wednesday, but in all fairness, Adam hadn’t really met any of the others until Blue started dating Gansey, and then he’d been busy enough that he'd only visited Monmouth a few times. It was improbable, but not unbelievable, that Ronan had been out during each of those times. Especially, Adam realized, because he’d mostly hung out at Monmouth in the early afternoon, just when Ronan would have been teaching small children how to paint. Once he thought about it, it made sense—but that was no excuse for Adam to watch Ronan like an infatuated teenager as he alternated between teasing Noah, trash-talking Henry, and periodically stealing Gansey’s hat to force it onto Blue’s head. 

It only got worse when it was time to hand Noah his presents. Adam breathed a sigh of relief when Noah started an enthusiastic spiel about the merits of the video game Adam had bought as soon as he tore the paper off, and Noah actually  _ squealed _ when he saw the set of glittery nail polish colors that Blue had given him. In addition to the dog, Henry presented Noah with a sweater that read “ _ Merry Christmas, ya filthy animal! _ ”, accompanied by an equally filthy wink that Adam planned to erase from his memory at the earliest opportunity. Noah was clearly excited about those gifts—but none of it compared to the moment when Ronan retreated to his room and returned with the most gorgeous skateboard Adam had ever seen. 

It wasn't just that the board was painted with immense technical skill, although that was certainly true. It was that every painstaking detail, from the skull wearing a flower crown to the ravens soaring around it in a spiral to the glittery paint used to spell out  _ punk rock _ along the edge, was a perfect reflection of Noah's personality. 

“ _ This is the most gorgeous skateboard I've ever seen _ ,” Noah breathed, reaching out to spin one of the wheels gently. It meant a lot more coming from Noah than it would have from Adam, as Noah had probably looked at more skateboards in the last year than Adam would see in his entire lifetime. 

“He painted it himself,” Gansey said when it became obvious that Ronan had no interest in explaining himself. “Picked out a special type of paint, so hopefully none of it will come off when you use it.”

Noah traced the flower crown with his fingers and looked up to grin at Ronan. “It's perfect. Thank you, Ronan.”

Ronan shrugged. “Try not to kill yourself while riding it.”

“I asked him to paint this helmet too.” Gansey took the statement as his opportunity to jump in, holding it out to Noah. “I thought that if it looked nice enough, you might actually wear it.”

“Helmets aren't punk rock,” Noah protested, and the moment broke. 

But now Adam knew the truth—Ronan wasn't just good with kids. He was also stunningly, painfully, unfairly good at art. 

Adam took another look at Ronan, who was currently faking nonchalance as he watched Noah examine the skateboard more closely, and made a decision. 

* * *

He no longer had time to visit the library. Finals were in full swing now, and he was spending practically every second he wasn't taking an exam holed up in his room, studying for his next exam. He did, however, find enough time to swallow his pride and ask Blue for Ronan's number. She gave it to him with a smile that was much too knowing for Adam's liking, along with a warning that Ronan was notorious for his inability to answer his phone. 

Adam texted him anyway. 

_ Since we have all the same friends, I figured we should probably have each other’s numbers.  _

_ This is Adam, by the way.  _

Despite Blue’s warning, it only took Ronan a few minutes to text back. 

**could have guessed from the perfect grammar**

**anisha wants to know where u r**

Adam’s heart thumped once, traitorously excited. He sent a picture of his textbooks and added,  _ I’m dying. See you on the other side.  _

**too bad. she's stuck here all week.**

Well. 

If that wasn't an invitation, Adam didn't know what was. 

* * *

As soon as his last exam ended on Friday, Adam made his way over to the public library. True to Ronan's word, Anisha was overjoyed to see Adam again and didn't waste a second before telling him about everything she'd made in the last week. He took his time listening to her and the other children and wishing all of them happy holidays, but when the first parents showed up, he wandered over to the nearest bookshelf and began skimming over the titles in front of him, waiting for a certain leather-clad, soft-hearted artist with a perpetual scowl to show up. 

It didn't take long. 

Adam smiled. “Hello again, asshole.”

“Watch your fucking language,” Ronan replied. “There are kids here.”

Adam made a show of looking up and down the aisle, then leaned in carefully and said, “Not anymore.”

He was standing close enough that he could see the exact moment that Ronan swallowed, tracking the progress of Adam's fingers along the spines of the books next to them. “Looking for something to read on the plane ride home?”

Adam shook his head. “Just looking for something to read. I'm not going anywhere over break.”

Ronan paused. “You're local?”

Adam thought of the hideously small apartment he shared with Blue—thought of its inability to run hot water and the front door that squeaked when it opened even after Adam had poured every ounce of his mechanic background into fixing it, thought of all the ways it was infinitely better than the double-wide trailer he'd occupied for eighteen years—and said, “I am now.”

He paused. “I might even be looking to volunteer somewhere next semester. Do some community service now that I'm actually part of the community.”

Ronan’s perpetual glare morphed into a smirk, dangerous and inviting. “What a coincidence,” he said. “I know a position that just opened up at the public library. Want to go out for pizza so I can tell you more about it?”

“Just let me choose a book first.” Adam pulled one off the shelf at random, never letting his eyes leave Ronan's. “Okay,” he grinned. “Now we can go.”

* * *

“Let me get this straight,” Blue said in their apartment later that night. “You're going to be volunteering at the program Ronan runs every weekday next semester?”

“Pretty much.”

“You don't even like kids.”

Adam was almost offended. “I don't  _ not _ like kids.”

“Oh, my bad, what a ringing endorsement,” Blue said, sarcasm dripping from every word. “Now I  _ completely _ understand why you're planning on spending every day at the public library.”

Adam shrugged. “It's good experience. Every medical student has to do a pediatric rotation sooner or later, so I might as well get used to interacting with kids now.”

“Uh-huh.”

Adam let Blue stare him down for fifteen more seconds, and then he cracked a grin. “Besides,” he said, “you're looking at it all wrong.”

She narrowed her eyes in either confusion or suspicion. When it came to Blue Sargent, the two were basically one and the same. “What?”

He thought of Ronan's bright blue eyes, begrudging approval, and mysterious tattoo. He hadn't gotten to see the whole thing yet. But he planned to. 

“You're looking at it all wrong,” he repeated. “There's nothing  straight about it.”

**Author's Note:**

> The most unrealistic thing about this fic is the idea that a broke-ass medical student would have time to volunteer at a public library five afternoons a week lol. But if Adam can work three part-time jobs in high school and still have time to go looking for Glendower, I suppose he can manage his time well enough to ace his med school classes and still hang out with his bf.
> 
> Happy Holidays and Merry Christmas Eve, my friends! Thanks for reading!


End file.
